The Event
by RaveTale
Summary: On the day before the first we fell into geometry like children... The sky was a chemical peel. We slept alone and restlessly through the shipping news. AU / APOCALYPTIC. An asteroid impact with Earth leaves L and Light scrambling to survive.


A/N: This fiction will consist of six lengthy chapters, based on the six stanzas of the poem "The Event" by Tom Chivers. The original poem starts at the sixth day and works its way down to the day before the first, but to make things easier to follow I'm flipping the poem over and writing in chronological order. Cheers!

x

On the day before the first we fell into geometry

like children. The sky was a chemical peel.

We slept alone and restlessly through the shipping news.

x

The café hummed with quiet tension, every pair of eyes trained on the television that hung above the counter. Images shown on the screen frequently alternated from a live satellite feed to a reassuring, friendly face of an authority figure. Science industries ran their warnings across the bottom of the screen, and world leaders showed themselves briefly every now and then to enforce the cautionary advices.

This had been life for the past two months. There was an asteroid headed for Earth, and all of its inhabitants were at an anxious standstill, dreading the impact that now seemed inevitable. The scientists had named the hunk of rock Pollux, and the fact that it had a name was all the more unnerving. It gave it an unstoppable feeling, like the titled tropical storms and tsunamis that devastated coastlines. Despite the evidence that supported its potential strike, however, the higher-ups in the commerce of science still insisted to the masses that the chances of collision remained evenly matched with the chances of it passing by harmlessly.

Reassurances for the weak-minded, L scoffed mentally. The asteroid would hit for sure. He reached up and straightened his apron, dark eyes fixed stressfully on the monitor above the café's menu. A man in a stained lab coat was currently smiling, speaking robotically into the camera about data that was found in support of the safety of Planet Earth. His words were comically contradicted by the emergency instructions that ran in red letters along the bottom of the screen: stay away from windows, keep underground as much as possible, in case of collision report immediately to your town's designated census station.

L looked down, rubbing his aching neck. He had been staring upwards at the TV screen his whole shift.

"What do you all think?" The words held an almost echo-like quality in the empty shop, and L had trouble pinpointing which of his coworkers had asked the question.

No one answered, and L swallowed uneasily at the continued and uncomfortable silence. From his position behind the cashier, he turned his back to the television and breathed out slowly.

"I think we should all close up for the day," He replied, breaking the stillness. "No one's going to come in, after all." He looked around challengingly, but no one else spoke up.

"Well, I'm going home." L sighed through his nose and, all eyes on him, tore his apron off and dropped it to the floor. "If the boss asks where I am, go ahead and let her know that I quit. I refuse to go another day spending a shift in an empty bistro, with nothing to do but watch a broadcast of the apocalypse on live TV."

He swung his leg over the counter and dropped to the floor on the other side. Striding across the interior of the small bakery, he paused at the door to turn and look at each of his coworkers. A few were anxiously watching him, and the other few had already returned their attentions to the television. The youngest of them, a teenager with blond hair, stepped forward. He mimicked L before joining him, slipping out from his uniform apron and letting it fall to the tile below.

"They say that the time of impact is just around the corner," The boy nearly whispered once he and L had left the café. The December air chillingly enveloped the two, and turned the teen's breath to billowing clouds of vapor. "That it'll happen within the next two days, I mean. I've been keeping an eye on what the internet leaks out…"

"Don't worry about it too much, Mello. Go home and spend some time with your family, everything will be just fine." L's dark eyes caught the straggling moonlight and glinted. He fixed the boy with a stern stare. At 21, he was two years the boy's senior - but he still held himself with a level of superiority.

Mello's turquoise eyes dimmed, and he didn't reply. He reached up and crossed his arms, teeth beginning to chatter.

"Do you need a ride home?" L pulled his car keys from his pocket and shook them, so that the tags clicked together and made a cheery, chiming noise. He smiled reassuringly, as if nothing was wrong. Three months ago, the smile would have been met with Mello's own; they would have driven to a shop in the country for homemade ice cream after their shift, like any other Wednesday evening. They attended the same university and spent a lot of time together, be it at work or afterwards. Now, Mello did not even look L in the eye as he nodded.

"That would be nice. I walked here."

"Hop in, then..." L sighed slowly as they reached his car. He came to a halt beside the driver's door and watched Mello clamber into the passenger's seat, taking time beforehand to kick the dirty snow from the soles of his shoes. L did the same, though he dimly acknowledged the fact that, if the world ended within the next forty-eight hours, a tidy car wouldn't be at the top of his priorities.

x

The inviting smell of cooking food greeted L upon his entering his townhouse. He shut the door behind him and unwound his scarf from around his neck. He tossed it, along with his shoes, to the side and shuffled across the foyer; he slid into the cozy living room and yawned. It had been a long day. From where he lay sprawled across the room's cough, Near looked up in surprise.

"You're home early." He mumbled. L warmed a bit at the acknowledgement, it was as affectionate a greeting one would ever evoke from his roommate.

"I quit." He replied, preparing for the protest Near would likely give.

"Why? Doesn't Mello work there?" Near sat up, and L didn't miss the bristling rise to the boy's voice. Being the same age as Mello, Near had always had feelings for him; they'd been friends long before L had met blond.

"If the world's going to end in less than two days, the last thing I'm worried about is going undercover to hook you two up." L grumbled. The television above the fireplace caught his eye, and his heart sank to the floor when he saw that it, too, showed the same international broadcast the café had. So much for escaping the doom and gloom of public newscast.

"He quit, too, anyway." L added grimly, incapable of dragging his eyes from the TV screen. The President of the United States was grinning, bragging about how Pollux had given science industries everywhere the chance to advance their technologies and satellite efficiencies. Behind the confident smile, the President's eyes shone with innumerable amounts of stress. He was terrified. Near sat back on the sofa and listened for a moment before shaking his head.

"I feel bad for everyone west of us." He stated. L didn't take to the gloating undertone in his friend's voice. He chose to ignore the comment and change the subject.

"What are you making for dinner? I can smell it." L backed up, turning from the television and living room to face the doorway to the kitchen. He passed the threshold and his black socks met slickly with the gleaming tile of the scullery. He heard the slight noise of movement behind him as Near joined him. Their townhouse was pleasantly large and elegant, posh in and of itself. It lay on an expensively groomed boardwalk, small designer shops and brasseries lining the road across from them. The ocean was not far away, and the air outside smelled of freezing sea salt and bitter winds. Alone, L and Near would not have been able to afford the class and sophistication they were surrounded by. They were not alone, however, as L's adopted father left for him a fortune in inheritance. Watari had been a good man. L silently was thankful that he was not now alive to witness the chaos the world was plummeting into as of late.

"I'm baking some turkey, chestnut stuffing, bread sauce; I've got parsnips, roast potatoes…" Near counted off the dishes on his fingers as he went, sounding a bit more relaxed than normal. He was majoring in culinary arts, and he had spent the past few days at home cooking exquisitely. Universities in the area had shut down for the past week. The whole end-of-the-world scenario was calling for family gatherings and time off of work and schooling.

"Are you cooking for us, or for a full house?" L mused, cheered up a bit at the homey smell of a delicious dinner. Paper grocery bags littered the floor, and herbs dusted the countertops. Several baskets of fruit lay in disarray with vegetable platters and bottles of frosted, organic drupe purees.

"I love food." Near hummed to himself, opening the over a bit to baste the turkey. "I'm going to eat as much as I can in the next two days." He looked up and quietly regarded his older roommate. "I wasn't expecting you home for another few hours, though, so this won't be ready for a while. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I bought a lot of nuts today and there are some smoothies and jams I made tucked away in the fridge."

"What would I do without you?" L shook his head and smiled.

"You would starve." Near sighed and stood, setting the silicone basting brush on the counter. "The real question is what I would do without you. I'd have nowhere to live."

"Lazy ass. It's your fault you don't have a job." L shambled himself to the fridge, opening the door and peering inside at the smoothies. He selected a reddish one and uncapped its bottle, taking a sip. He swallowed and considered its taste. "I guess you don't need one. I guess I don't need one. I've got more than enough inheritance and if my studies pay off in the medical field I'll only be expanding my wealth."

No one brought up the fact that money may not matter anymore, that he may never finish his studies. Near cleared his throat in acknowledgment.

"Your American fancy called earlier. He was looking for you." Near effectively changed the subject. The door to the fridge closed considerably louder than necessary, and L regarded Near with worry in his eyes.

"Light?" He choked back a sigh, leaning his shoulder against the chrome of the Bosch classic icebox.

"No, the President. He wished to confide in you his distress that North America is the designated ground zero of Pollux." Near tilted his head with sarcastic mirth, and then closed his eyes for a moment. "Light was asking for you, I told him that you were at work and that I would have you call back. He said he'd be home all night so no worries."

Dismissing the lonely, longing tone in Near's voice, L exited the kitchen and hurried down a dark hallway to a staircase. He rushed up the steps and then halted in the middle of another short lobby, reaching up to pull an elaborately woven cord that hung shortly from the polished planks of the wooden ceiling. The miniature chandelier that hung a bit farther down the narrow corridor trembled a bit and its dangling ornaments pealed together pleasingly as a square of the ceiling gave way, a collapsible ladder falling from above. L hooked a foot on the bottom rung and heaved himself upwards, clambering his way into the attic.

Deeming the space too dark at this hour of evening, L pulled the ladder into the place and sought out a nearby lamp. An iridescent yellow glow filled the loft, and L stood straight with a sigh. It was a long room, carpeted in white Saxony. It was sparsely furnished with what L deemed "contemporary" articles, and from the mahogany A-frame ceiling hung framed photographs on artistically beaten white chains. L's favorite photo was of Near and himself lying sprawled on a green picnic blanket, sand dusting their faces. Standing above them was Watari, a basket of bread under one arm and a canteen of tea gripped in the hand of his other. L still remembered the day it was taken, he had been fifteen and Near thirteen, and Watari had insisted they have "family photographs" taken by a professional photographer. In the end, the man had been the only one enthusiastic about it. L and Near both bore blissful smiles in this picture, however, and their expressions contradicted the storm clouds that rolled over the ocean in the natural backdrop.

Near was not L's brother, but the picture feigned the uniformity of a family tie - and that is why L held it so dearly. Near's parents were not very involved in their son's life, and didn't even bat an eye when the boy very nearly moved in with L and Watari at the sage of seventeen. Watari paid for Near's first year of college, and after his death, L took it upon himself to use a portion of his inheritance to pay for the next year.

And here we are, L mused, touching the photograph as he passed it. It swung gently in response.

From two floors below L faintly heard his friend shout an exclamation, the call followed shortly by the sound on a pan meeting the tiled floor. He smiled sadly, an inkling of worry prodding at L's stomach. Pollux may take this from him.

Pollux may take his home, his perfect life; everything he had worked so hard for, Pollux may rip it all away from him.

Pollux may take his boyfriend from him.

L reached a stout table that sat proudly beneath an ovular window. He fumbled for the phone that resided on said table, taking it from its dock and hesitantly dialing an all-too-familiar number. There were other phones in the townhouse but the one in the attic was the one L favored. It offered more privacy. When Watari was alive, this was the only phone in the house he would use. L took a deep breath and shoved the device to his ear, closing his eyes in immediate remorse. There was only one ring before an anxious answer sounded at the other end.

"L? Thank god, I didn't think you would call back."

"Hi, Light." L swallowed, and then withered a bit at the pregnant silence that followed his greeting. When Light failed to say anything in response, L opened his eyes and tilted his head backwards, launching into an apology. "Listen, I'm really sorry about what I said a couple days ago. I didn't mean it, and I don't want to fight. Not now."

"It's okay, I'm sorry too." There was relief in Light's voice, and a certain degree of achieved happiness. L warmed at the repair between them. Two days prior, he had feared their breakup. Now, he wanted nothing more than to see his partner.

"Listen, is there any way you could make the commute to Sunderland? I miss you; we've got plenty of room here. Near and I always have room." He paused, giving Light room to respond. He didn't. L frowned and his brows knitted together in frustration.

"It's only a few hours from Liverpool to here; you can make it, right?" He prompted.

"Yeah, I can leave later tonight. I'm waiting for a call."

"Your parents?" L sympathized. Light was only in the UK for his studies, his real home was in the US. His parents were there, and given that the assumed impact zone for Pollux was North America, their plans were to join their son in the UK for greater measures of survival.

That had been before the riots and mass mayhem that had taken place at American airports, though. Means of international travel since then have been shut down in the states, no one gets in and no one can get out. According to world leaders, it was a "step in the right direction" when it came to preventing chaos and overall collapse of order that Pollux may have provoked. In reality, the American citizens were now trapped within their own borders, waiting for the asteroid impact. Lucky ones were finding loopholes in the system and fleeing either south or north, into Central and South America or Northern Canada. L knew that Light's parents were not of that minority.

"Yeah, my mom and dad. They called yesterday, they're still in Minnesota. They're trying to find ways into Canada but apparently the military is all over the place. America's practically under martial law already."

L continued to sympathize. He could imagine what Light was feeling. He glanced over his shoulder at a framed photograph of Watari, and his heart ached for a moment.

"I'm sorry, love." He murmured. "There's nothing you can do. Give them my number if they don't already have it and head over here. If you leave now you may make it in time for Near's cooking, he's prepared this huge meal. Again."

"Near…" Light's voice was quiet, but L could pick out a smile in the undertones.

"Yeah, Near." He agreed, trying to alter the subject and cheer him up. "He's been in a frenzy lately. He's bought all this food and he's cooking all these weird dishes. Tonight he made this entire Christmas feast, it's crazy. Think you can make it?"

"…I'll try. I'll call my folks; leave them a message with your number. Then I'll pack some things and head over, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Don't take your time. I'll see you?" L took a deep breath, already dreading hanging up.

"A little later. I'll see you!" Light was louder now that they weren't talking about his family's situation. L relaxed.

"Bye bye," L hailed, and then cancelled the connection. He set the phone down and stood a bit straighter. Running a hand along the top of the table, he pursed his lips and looked through the rounded window in front of him. Outside, flurries of snow that had been caught in the wind drifted hastily down the road. The sky, however, was clear and showed what stars the city lights allowed.

L frowned and leaned forward a bit, unlatching the window and swinging it open. He peered more closely at the sky, and his heart sank at what he saw.

The twilight lighting was unusual and iridescent, and every few seconds or so a meteor would cross the horizon, emitting a blazing trail of fire before breaking apart in the atmosphere. L felt urgently unnerved, a rush causing his stomach to drop to his feet. He pulled the window shut and quickly latched it, backing away from the glass and averting his gaze from the deadly light show.

He crossed the attic space and kicked the ladder down, just barely using it as a handhold as he slid into the corridor below.

"Near," He called, desperate for distracting interaction. There was no answer, and L descended the stairs two at a time. He jogged down the dimly lit hallway and gripped the doorframe to the kitchen, swinging into the room and looking around. Near was not at the oven, nor the sink, or anywhere for that matter. L bit his lip and peeked back out into the hallway. The light from the living room still shone, so he moved that direction.

No Near here, either. L's shoulders drooped and he looked up at the TV, zeroing in his focus. He froze.

The warnings that had scrolled along the bottom of the screen for several days now had taken residence front and center: stay away from windows, keep underground as much as possible, in case of collision report immediately to your town's designated census station.

Behind the cautions was a split screen. The President of the United States was pleading that everyone in his country remain calm on one half, and on the other was an important-looking scientist.

The scientist was explaining in detail what would happen to the planet in case of impact.

L slowly stepped backwards, out of the living room, and again shouted for Near.

There was a faint reply, and L sprinted in that direction. He caught sight of Near's silhouette outside the townhouse's front door, and he flung it open. Near stood on the front steps, head craned upwards, eyes wide.

"L, you might want to take a look at the sky." He pointed towards the firmament but didn't turn around as he spoke. L squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He shook his head.

"I don't want to look. I saw." He opened his eyes and seized Near's arm, pulling him indoors. "Come on. We don't need this. Let's set up a bed on the floor of the living room, we can eat there and keep ourselves updated with the television tonight. We don't need this."

The door slid closed, and Near covered his face for a brief heartbeat.

"L, what's going to happen?" He breathed outwardly, arms dropping to his sides. L considered what he could say to this, and then decided to not say anything at all.

"We don't need this. Let's set up a bed on the living room floor, we can eat there. The TV will keep us updated."

Near nodded at the repetition.

"I wish Watari were here." He then admonished. L was at a loss for words. Something in his chest broke for the millionth time at the mention of that man's name.

"I know. Me too." He murmured in agreement.

"I don't know what to do, L."

"I know. Me neither." L tugged Near farther away from the door. "Finish cooking dinner. We can snack on smoothies and stuff all night. We've got a lot of stuff to eat. We'll be okay."

"Okay." Near shook L's hand from his arm and they both left the foyer. Near stepped into the living room and leaned over the couch, picking up the remote and increasing the television's volume significantly. The split screen had vanished; the President was no longer visible.

"I need to hear this from the kitchen. Do you think Mello is okay?" Near explained, raising his voice to fight the volume of the scientist's on TV. He dropped the remote onto the couch cushion and left for the cookery. L followed, escaping the blaring voices in the living room.

"He can handle himself. He's with family right now, he told me so early at work." L sighed.

He had done his research. Pollux was almost a mile in diameter, just a bit short of it. An asteroid that size is capable of wiping out all life on Earth.

L lifted his gaze and eyed Near, who had opened the oven again to baste the food cooking there. The boy's small frame screamed fragility. He was unsure of anyone's chances of survival after this, but he knew he would need to protect his best friend.

L covered his mouth and leaned against the kitchen doorframe. He loved life. He had worked hard to get to this point.

And now he would need to be careful, because he may lose it all.


End file.
